In a Single Second
by neon maverick
Summary: What if there was someone different behind the masterpiece of Tess Tyler's music? What if she'd never know the real meaning of love? NatexOC Smitchie.
1. Chapter 1

**Tess Tyler was never really the nicest of people.**

'You know, Mitchie, I'm glad I told your secret to the world.' Tess said, while fiddling with her bright blonde hair.

'Why's that, Tess?' Mitchie glared at her.

'Because nobody wants a liar for a rock star.' Tess stalked off, and Mitchie breathed in deeply, knowing deep down she was right.

**But surely, the only thing that was truly hers was her music. **

_I tell myself you're not gonna shake me._

_I tell myself you're too weak to tame me._

_I tell myself it's no use it's too late._

'She's not bad, is she?' Shane whispered to Jason.

Jason nodded. 'Yeah, the lyrics are really cool.'

**Or was it?**

'I need a song that describes what I feel for Shane.' Tess said to Arianna Locket, the 14-year-old girl sitting on her bed. 'I want him to know that I've fallen hard for him, but he'll never know. Like a movie…' Tess raised her eyebrows. 'Well?'

'If we were a movie, you'd be the right guy, and I'd be the best friend, that you'd fall in love with.' Arianna spoke her lyrics she'd scribbled down whilst Tess was speaking.

'That's good…have it finished by tomorrow, 'kay?' Tess didn't wait for an answer; she walked out, leaving Arianna to pick up her stuff and leave before the others got to the room.

**Being the new girl with a secret is hard,**

'So, why do you never come to any classes? I've never seen you before.' Mitchie said, smiling at her.

'I…I, um, my parents asked for private classes.' Ari silently congratulated herself on her lie.

**Especially when you're being blackmailed. **

'You spill our little secret to _anyone _and I'll make sure that _everyone _knows about why you couldn't go to this camp.' Tess threatened.

**A trip down memory lane,**

'Why didn't they want me?' Arianna asked her agent, Susan.

Susan looked awkward. 'They didn't think you were…rock star material.'

'What?'

'You weren't pretty enough, sweetheart.' Susan said, brushing back the stray hair that had fallen from behind Ari's ear.

**And someone to lean on,**

'Are you crying?' he asked, turning towards her.

Arianna wiped at her eyes. 'Allergies.'

'What's the matter?' he asked, ignoring the excuse he'd heard one too many times.

**Could be just what she needs to get back on track. **

'Just give her a chance! _Why_ wasn't she pretty enough?! _Why_ wasn't she allowed to _be_ someone?!'

**Unless her chances of stardom are ruined… **

'She wasn't good looking enough! They told her to get a job in McDonalds, because she would never make it into the limelight. _That's _why she wasn't allowed to come to Camp Rock. Unless someone were to help her – like me.'

**In a Single Second. **

Their lips touched, and her knees buckled. 'Don't do this to me. I couldn't handle it again.'

'I'll never hurt you, I promise.' And they kissed.

Neither of them realised they were being watched.

**Coming Soon.**

_Okay, just to clarify, the songs used will not be original, just Disney, or Disney stars' songs. Reviews?_


	2. Chapter 2

'…maybe this will do you some good, Ari.'

'You're mad, right?' Working for the Queen of Bitchville wasn't exactly what I had in mind when I told Susan I wanted to pursue my music career further.

'Arianna,' Susan warns. 'I know you don't want to do this – but you know…when you get famous, this will be a really good story to tell.'

'_If _I get famous,' I say, falling into the soft couch in Susan's living room. Being positive isn't really my forte when I get rejected by 5 music critics.

'You will – in time,' Susan is always happy; how is it possible to be so upbeat all the freaking time?!

I've never really thought too highly of myself. Oh, you already gathered that? Well, it's not exactly hard to pick it up.

Have you ever heard of TJ Tyler - and her daughter? Good, then we're on the same page. Yes, Queen of Bitchville is Tess Tyler, famous for being famous really. Her hair could have a museum dedicated to itself if her mom paid enough.

'Arianna, where are you?!'

It's time to meet the parents. They've just walked in to Susan's flat with the spare key they found underneath the flowerpot outside two months ago. Susan had considered having the locks changed, but there was really no need – they'd just do it again.

'In the living room,' I say, '…drowning my sorrows in Coke.' Not that they care. I pick up the can of Coca Cola off the table and take a sip while they find their living room.

'Get that bath of calories away from your mouth, Arianna!' My stick-thin mother stalks over and snatches the Coke from my hand and gives it back to Susan. 'We're leaving now,' she grabs my wrist and pulls me out.

Susan makes no move to stop her – this is how it happens every time they come to pick me up.

My mother is simply the do-it-yourself Dolly Parton, minus the charity and the cool clothes. Instead of a wig, she grew out her hair and dyed it blonde with some cheapo hair dye she found at Wal-Mart. Instead of the boob jobs, she buys cheapo clothes – also from Wal-Mart – that are three sizes too small so they'll hoist them up in – what she thinks is – a similar fashion. Oh, and instead of losing weight healthily, she's anorexic – or a health freak. Either way, it's not good for her.

And then there's my dad. I think he thinks he's "fit". He's cheated on my mom countless times – but she won't admit it. Do you know how many times I've seen my dad in bed with other women? Because I don't. It's got to the point that it doesn't even bother me – a lot of the time I'll end up saying something like, 'Sorry I disturbed you; I'll go to another room.' But then, he is almost 8 years younger than her – who can blame him for wanting women his age?

There's also me – but I'm not really considered part of the family. I'm a bit like a chore – something they have to look after on a regular basis that they involuntarily have to do. I have brown hair with iron-in strips of coloured hair and greenish brownish eyes. I'm really nothing special – but I've got a kind of wacky style. I love to write and sing and play electric, acoustic, bass and piano. But I own none of these instruments. I go down to Mike's Mike Stand, the music shop down the road where the guy – Mike, obviously – lets me sit for hours on end playing the various instruments, and singing for him and others alike.

But when I was pointed towards the music critics on my musical ability, I never expected to be rejected so harshly…and forced to work for Queen Bitch herself…


End file.
